


On moonless nights

by mysV



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Kanan (Comics), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherhood, Clone Wars, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Battle of Haruun Kal, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysV/pseuds/mysV
Summary: “You know you can call me, when you are feeling like this like this.” Grey nodded, the movement barely noticeable.“Did you do anything?” Styles whispered this part, worry heavy in his chest, threatening to break through the steadiness in his voice.Styles was deeply grateful that he didn’t see his brother’s blasters or vibroblade anywhere close to them.
Relationships: CC-10/994 | Grey & Styles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	On moonless nights

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I remember that, according to Canon and Kanan Comics, Grey and Styles lost almost everyone under their command. It probably is the hardest punch to to guts any trooper could take. 
> 
> So, Inspired on that fact, I wrote this, and also because Styles deserves a bit more appreciation.

**Disclaimer** : Star Wars and all of its affiliated properties remains property of Lucasfilm and Disney.

* * *

  
“Grey?” Styles cautiously walks to their side of the barracks. Only silence greeted him.

Styles sighed, dropping his helmet into the nearest bunk. The whole room was dark. The blankets had been pulled from every place they were kept, some were ripped haphazardly while others were folded in tidy lines on the cold floor.

The medikit locker next to the last bunk was thrown open, the bottom two shelves emptied completely of their contents. Small circles patterned the dust of the shelves, evidence of stims bottles reciently removed. Now they also lie spread out on the floor. A few of them were opened, colorful pills looking like candy, spilling like their brothers guts, like their General guts. Styles could see lines in these, too, moments of fanatical, obsessive organization, just like the blankets.

_Stars, Grey._

Styles moved closer to the bunk, he didn’t approach to see if there were damage in the other beds, more stims bottles open, he know he’d only see a continuation of the disturbing sight. Grey sat in the thin matress, his back pressed against the wall. His knees were pulled to his chest and his cheek was buried in his bare knee. The scar on his face still look swollen, hurting. His usually warm face was expressionless, his brown eyes were dimmed and unfocused, as though he wasn’t present in his body.

Styles felt a now familiar sadness rise within him. It never got easier, seeing Grey like this. He looked so small. He didn’t understand how someone like his Commander, so strong and thoughtful and resilent, could become so collapsed down.

“You know you can call me, when you are feeling like this like this.” Grey nodded, the movement barely noticeable.

“Did you do anything?” Styles whispered this part, worry heavy in his chest, threatening to break through the steadiness in his voice.

Styles was deeply grateful that he didn’t see his brother’s blasters or vibroblade anywhere close to them.

Grey shook his head, thick curls falling over his eyes. He makes no move to push them back. Grey was never like this, his hair was always cut short and proper, always the very image of what a GAR Commander should be. Styles let out a shuddery breath, moving slightly behind Grey to pull him to his chest. Grey doesn’t react, just lets himself be moved until he’s almost on Styles’ lap.

He is not Styles batchmate, they were not close as cadets, kriff, they didn’t even meet as cadets. Grey was decanted and trained in the exact opposite side of Tipoca City Styles was from.

He was his closest, dearest brother, though.

“It’s okay.” Styles whispers softly, arms gently enveloping Grey’s drawn form. Grey sighed, tilting his head to rest in Styles’ neck. Styles felt his brother settle into his chest and took a moment to press a kiss to his hair. He felt Grey’s soft exhale on his neck as the man pushed his nose against Styles’ collarbone.

“I know,” Styles murmured, pulling him closer, “Grey, believe me, I know.”

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading :)


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